…started with our annual pilgrimage to hike St. Mary’s Glacier.
It ended before we even began.
Upon arriving at the trailhead, the only parking that remained was along a steep ledge so I hopped out to guide Jamie in his parallel parking efforts. Hadley, assuming we had arrived, jumped out too.
While it was still moving.
She started shrieking. I raced over to her side of the car and found her arm caught in the door. I released it, only to realize that was the least of her problems: Jamie had stopped the car on her foot.
“DRIVE, RIGHT NOW! DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE!!!!!!”
Rest assured, I am not a person you want to be around in a crisis situation.
Confused by my hysterics, Jamie paused, unsure what direction to go. Eventually, he just stepped on the gas and rolled off her poor little foot.
We grabbed little crippled Hadley and raced her to the back of our SUV. We removed her shoe and as we surveyed the damage, Bode (ever the supportive brother), came over and demanded, “I’m hungry. Feed me now.”
He will not be mistaken for the sensitive type.
Even though her foot was miraculously fine, we skipped the hike and hung out at nearby Silver Lake before heading down to play in Idaho Springs.
Dejected from our misadventures, I promised them we would go visit Grandma Jean’s kitties when we returned home. Our neighbor had somehow left the two people in the world her cats hate most (meaning: my children) in charge while she went away for the weekend.
They jubilantly raced across the street, I punched in the code Jean had given me to her garage door and entered.
Then the house alarm went off.
She hadn’t mentioned anything about a house alarm.
I didn’t stick around long enough to figure out how to turn it off. We hightailed it over to another neighbor’s house who came back and did it for us. We settled into kitty stalking mode and all was well in the world.
Until the cops showed up.
I’ll spare you the sordid details but they almost involved a preschooler and kindergartner doing hard time for catnapping (mug shots taken two years ago prior to our trip to Mexico. Oh, the foreshadowing.)
Oh yeah, and my dear husband who debated not vouching for us.
He was obviously still recovering from my near-nervous breakdown earlier that day.
I’ll stop there and won’t mention the freezer that was left open all night and how we woke up to all our nice, expensive meat oozing all over the floor, which then inspired possessed me to spend the entirety of my Labor Day cleaning out our garage.
Have I mentioned how glad I am the long weekend is over?
So, make me feel better. Tell me about all the horrible, awful things that happened to you over Labor Day weekend. Errr…. please?
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 